name of the "Yellowplush Correspondence"). "Ha, ha! why, to tell twuth, I have wead the cowespondence to which you allude: it's a gweat "Why, Doctor Larner, I was going to tell at once the name of the periodical-it is FRASER'S MAGAZINE." "FRESER!" says the Doctor. "O thunder and favowite at Court. I was talking with Spwing turf!" "FWASER!" says Bullwig. "O-ah-humhaw-yes-no-why-that is, weally-no, weally, upon my weputation, I never before heard the name of the pewiodical. By the by, Sir John, what wemarkable good clawet this is! Is it Lawose or Laff--" Laff, indeed! he cooden git beyond laff; and I'm blest if I could kip it neither-for hearing him pretend ignurnts, and being behind the Wice and John Wussell about it the other day." "Well, and what do you think of it?" says Sir John, looking mity waggish-for he knew it was me who roat it. "Why, weally and twuly, there's considewable cleaverness about the cweature; but it's low, disgustingly low: it violates pwobability, and the orthography is so carefully inaccuwate, that it requires a possitive study to compwehend it." "Yes, faith," says Larner; "the arthagraphy is skreend, settlin sumthink for the genlmn, I bust into such a raw of laffing as never was igseeded. "Hullo!" says Bullwig, turning red. "Have I said anything impwobable, aw widiculous? for weally, I never befaw wecollect to have heard in society such a twemendous peal of cachinnationthat which the twagic bard who fought at Mawathon has called an anewithmon gelasma." "Why, be the holy piper," says Larder, "I think you are dthrawing a little on your imagination. Not read Fraser! Don't believe him, my lord duke; he reads every word of it, the rogue! The boys about that magazine baste him as if he was a sack of oatmale. My reason for crying out, Sir Jan, was because you mintioned Fraser at all. Bullwig has every syllable of it by heart-from the paillitix down to the 'Yellowplush Correspondence.'" "Ha, ha!" says Bullwig, affecting to laff (you may be sure my ears prickt up when I heard the detestible; it's as bad for a man to write bad spillin as it is for em to speak wid a brogue. Iducation furst, and ganius afterwards. Your health, my lord, and good luck to you." "Yaw wemark," says Bullwig, "is vewy appwopwiate. You will wecollect, Sir John, in Hewodotus (as for you, Doctor, you know more about Iwish than about Gweek)-you will wecollect, without doubt, a stowy nawwated by that cwedulous though fascinating chwonicler, of a certain kind of sheep which is known only in a certain distwict of Awabia, and of which the tail is so enormous, that it either dwaggles on the gwound, or is bound up by the shepherds of the country into a small wheelbawwow, or cart, which makes the chwonicler sneewingly wemark that thus 'the sheep of Awabia have their own chawiots.' I have often thought, sir (this clawet is weally nectaweous)-I have often, I say, thought that the wace of man may be compawed to these Awabian sheep-genius is our tail, education our wheelbawwaw. Without art and education to pwop it, this genius dwops on the gwound, and is polluted by the mud, or injured by the works upon the way: with the wheelbawwow it is strengthened, ineweased, and supported--a pwide to the owner, a blessing to mankind.” "A very appropriate simile,' says Sir John; "and I am afraid that the genius of our friend Yellowplush has need of some such support." "Apropos," said Bullwig, “who is Yellowplush I was given to understand that the name was only a fictituous one, and that the papers were written by the author of the Diary of a Physician;' if so, the man, has wonderfully improved in style, and there is some hope of him." “Bah!" said the Duke of Doublejowl; "evrey body knows its Barnard, the celebrated author of 'Sam Slick.'" "Mr. Yellowplush," says his grace, “will you, in the first place, drink a glass of wine?" I boughed agin “And what wine do you prefer, sir? humble port or imperial burgundy " "Why, your grace," says I, " I know my place, and ain't above kitchen wines I will take a glas of port, and drink it to the health of this honourable company." When I'd swigged off the bumper, which his grace himself did me the honour to pour out for me, there was a silints for a minnit; when my master said – "Charles Yellowplush, I have perused your memoirs in Fraser's Magazine with so much curiosity, and have so high an opinion of your talents as a writer, that I really cannot keep you as a footman any longer, or allow you to discharge | duties for which you are now quite unfit. With “Pardon, my dear duke,” said Lord Bagwig; all my admiration for your talents, Mr. Yellow"it's the authoress of High Life,' Almack',' and plush, I still am confident that many of your other fashionable novels,” friends in the servants' hall will clean my boots a great deal better than a gentleman of your genius can ever be expected to do-it is for this purpose I employ footmen, and not that they may be writing in magazines. But-you need not look so red, my good fellow, and had better take another glass of port-I don't wish to throw you upon the wide world without the means of a livelihood, and have made interest for a little place which you will have under Government, and which will give you an income of eighty pounds per annum; which you can double, I presume, by your literary labours,” “Fiddlestick's end!” says Doctor Larner; “don't be blushing and pretending to ask questions; don't we know you, Bullwig It's you yourself, you thief of the world: we smoked you from the very beginning." Bullwig was about indignantly to reply, when Sir John interupted them, and said--“I must correct you all, gentlemen; Mr. Yellowplush is no other than Mr. Yellowplush: he gave you, my dear Bulwig, your last glass of champagne at dinner, and is now an inmate of my house, and an ornament of my kitchen!" "Gad!" says Doublejowl, "let's have him up." "Hear, hear!" says Bagwig. "Ah, now," says Larner, "your grace is not going to call up and talk to a footman, sure? Is it gintale?" "To say the least of it," says Bullwig, "the pwactice is iwwegular, and indecowous; and I weally don't see how the interview can be in any way pwofitable." But the vices of the company went against the two littery men, and everybody excep them was for having up poor me. The bell was wrung; butler came. "Send up Charles," says master; and Charles, who was standing behind the skreand, was persnly abliged to come in. "Sir," says I, clasping my hands, and busting into tears, "do not-for heaven's sake, do notthink of any such think, or drive me from your suvvice, because I have been fool enough to write in magaseens. Glans but one moment at your honour's plate-every spoon is as bright as a mirror: condysend to igsamine your shoes-your honour may see reflected in them the fases of every one in the company. I blacked them shoes, I cleaned that there plate. If occasionally I've forgot the footman in the litterary man, and committed to paper my remindicences of fashionable life, it was from a sincere desire to do good, and promote nollitch and I appeal to your honour-I lay my hand on my busm, and in the fase of this noble company beg you to say, When "Charles," says master, "I have been telling these gentlemen who is the author of the Yellow-you rung your bell, who came to you fust? When plush Correspondence,' in Fraser's Magazine.” "It's the best magazine in Europe," says the duke. "And no mistake," says my lord. "Hwhat!" says Larner; "and where's the Litherary Chran?" I said myself nothing, but made a bough, and blusht like pickle-cabbitch. you stopt out at Brooke's till morning, who sat up for you? When you was ill, who forgot the natral dignities of his station, and answered the two-pair bell? Oh, Sir," says I, "I know what's what; don't sent me away. I know them littery chaps, and, believe me, I'd rather be a footman. The work's not so hard, the pay is better, the vittels incompyrably supearor. I have but to at me. clean my things, and run my errints, and you put clothes on my back, and meat in my mouth. Sir! Mr. Bullwig, an't I right? shall I quit my station and sink-that is to say, rise-to yours?" Bullwig was violently affected; a tear stood in his glistening i. "Yellowplush," says he, seizing my hand, “you are right. Quit not your present occupation; black boots, clean knives, wear plush, all your life, but don't turn literary man. Look I am the first novelist in Europe. I have ranged with eagle wing over the wide regions of literature, and perched on every eminence in its turn. I have gazed with eagle eyes on the sun of philosophy, and fathomed the mysterious depths of the human mind. All languages are familiar to me, all thoughts are known to me, all men understood by me. I have gathered wisdom from the honeyed lips of Plato, as we wandered in the gardens of Acadames-wisdom, too, from the mouth of Job Johnson, as we smoked our 'baccy in Seven Dials. Such must be the studies, and such is the mission, in this world, of the PoetPhilosopher. But the knowledge is only emptiness; the initiation is but misery; the initiated, a man shunned and bann'd by his fellows. Oh,” said Bullwig, clasping his hands, and throwing his fine i's up to the chandelier, "the curse of Pwometheus descends upon his wace. Wath and punishment pursue them from genewation to genewation! Wo to genius, the heaven-scaler, the fire-stealer! Wo and thrice bitter desolation! Earth is the wock on which Zeus, wemorseless, stwetches his withing victim-men, the vultures that feed and fatten on him. Ai, Ai! it is agony eternal-gwoaning and solitawy despair! And you, Yellowplush, would penetwate these mystewies: you would waise the awful veil, and stand in the twemendous Pwesence. Beware; as you value your peace, beware! Withdwaw, wash Neophyte For heaven's sake-O for heaven's sake!" here he looked round with agony-"give me a glass of bwandy-and-water, for this clawet is begining to disagwee with me." Bullwig having concluded this spitch, very much to his own sattasfackshn, looked round the compny for aplaws, and then swigged off the glass of brandy-and-water, giving a sollum sigh as he took the last gulph; and then Doctor Ignatius, who longed for a chans, and, in order to show his independence, began flatly contradicting his friend, addressed me, and the rest of the genlmn present, in the following manner : "Hark ye," says he, "my gossoon, doan't be led asthray by the nonsinse of that divil of a Bullwig. ! He's jillous of ye, my bhoy: that's the rale undoubted truth; and it's only to keep you out of litherary life that he's palavering you in this way. I'll tell you what-Plush, ye blackguard-my honourable frind the mimber there has told me a hundred times, by the smallest computation, of his intense admiration of your talents, and the wonderful sthir they were making in the world. He can't bear a rival. He's mad with envy, hatred, oncharatableness. Look at him, Plush, and look at me. My father was not a juke exactly, nor aven a markis, and see, nevertheless, to what a pitch I am come. I spare no ixpinse; I'm the editor of a couple of pariodicals; I dthrive about in me carridge; I dine wid the lords of the land; and why-in the name of the piper that played before Moses, hwy? Because I'm a litherary man. Because I know how to play my cards. Because I'm Doctor Larner, in fact, and mimber of every society in and out of Europe. I might have remained all my life in Thrinity Colledge, and never made such an incom as that offered you by Sir Jan; but I came to London—to London, my boy, and now see! Look again at me friend Bullwig. He is a gentleman, to be sure, and bad luck to 'im, say I; and what has been the result of his litherary labour? I'll tell you what; and I'll tell this gintale society, by the shade of Saint Patrick, they're going to make him A BARINET." "A BARNET, Doctor!" says I; "you don't mean to say they're going to make him a barnet! And pray what for?" "What faw?" says Bullwig. "Ask the histowy of litwatuwe what faw? Ask Colburn, ask Bentley, ask Saunders and Otley, ask the great Bwitish nation, what faw? On the thwone of litewature I stand unwivalled, pwe-eminent; and the Bwitish government, honowing genius in me, compliments the Bwitish nation by lifting into the bosom of the heweditawy nobility, the most gifted member of the democwacy." (The honrabble genlm here sunk down amidst repeated cheers.) "Sir John," says I, "and my lord duke, the words of my rivrint frend Ignatius and the remarks of the honrabble genlmn who has just sate down, have made me change the detummination which I had the honour of igspressing just now. "I igsept the eighty pound a year; knowing that I shall have plenty of time for pursuing my littery career, and hoping some day to set on that same bench of barranites, which is deckarated by the presnts of my honrabble friend.” [From "Travel and Trout in the Antipodes." By WILLIAM SENIOR.] HE most wonderful object of this district we found to be at a place bearing the formidable name of Whakarewerewa. It is about two miles and a half through the fern from Ohinemuto. On the way we passed a large pond in continual toil and trouble from hot springs, one of which a few years ago developed into a full-blown geyser forty feet high; after remaining on view for a short time, it suddenly retired from active business, and has never appeared since, showing that, if the people on this part of the earth are indolent, the forces beneath their feet are ever restless, and that surprising effects may be by them at any moment created. A singular country indeed! Here was a stream clear as crystal and cold as a glacier; and within a narrow radius were heaps of sulphur and the débris of other eruptions, mud springs quivering day and night, and ground perceptibly hot to the foot. We were riding through the flowering ti-tree and fern, and, hearing a vigorous bubbling amongst the undergrowth, pulled up to see a fountain of black boiling unsavoury mud which had but a short time since added itself unbidden to the strange sights of the district. Then we rode down a steep bank and over a creek which is fed by innumerable small geysers and hot springs, necessitating the utmost precision in following the footsteps of the guide's horse if we would emerge on the other side without boiled pasterns. The line of the river was marked by greater or lesser steam jets whose pure white wreaths curled gracefully amongst the feathery ti-tree and hung lingering about its starry flowers. In the pumice country beyond, the gentleman who conducted us to the place lost a horse a year before, in a manner which explains emphatically the nature of the country. He was riding at full speed through the fern; the horse went into a hole, and he was shot yards ahead. Scrambling to his feet and rubbing the sparks out of his eyes, he found the horse gone. There was the newly-formed abyss, but no trace of the horse. Next day he came with ropes, and was lowered down into a subterranean cavern sloping obliquely into thick darkness. Lower and lower he went, till his friends above came to the end of the tether, and then they drew him to bank to report that the pit seemed to be bottomless. It is needless, perhaps, to remark that nothing was ever heard or seen of the horse. In the sweetly cool morning-cool as we should reckon coolness in England, and not in Sydney or Brisbane-we brushed the dew from the fern as we followed Kate and her posse of boatmen down the steep declivity which conducted to the boat waiting for us at the head of Lake Tarawera. Some day, when the Maoris are more yielding to the white lessees, there will no doubt be an hotel built at this spot, or on the higher banks to the right, overlooking the blue and charming lake. At present you have a tiresome walk to pay as the penalty of native obstinacy. But they are giving way by degrees. For instance, two years ago the voyage across Lake Tarawera would have been performed in a very low type of canoe, a mere dugout, in which you were generally drenched and always cramped, and which, when it came on to blow, as it often does from the mountains, would be made an admirable excuse for delay. Now we found a capital whaleboat ready for launching, and there were two other craft of similar capacity in the rude sheds. We had a preliminary squabble about some rowlocks, for the use of which we were expected by another set of boatmen-rivals presumably-to pay backsheesh. We, however, were firm as adamant, and ultimately got afloat. The shores of Tarawera are well wooded, and they present every variety of picturesque indentation, from rocky promontories and precipitous cliffs to tiny coves and gentle verdurous promontories; some portions of the background of mountain were almost grand. By contrast with this larger lake, Rotomahana, to reach which we submitted to be landed on the shoulders of our boatmen, bore out the first impression which every traveller records: that of an insignificant and even dirty-looking piece of water-some have even spoken of it contemptuously as a pond-in which marine vegetation shelters the wild fowl, which the natives protect as strictly as an English squire his partridges and pheasants. It is true the lake as a lake is nothing. Yet there is a peculiarity in the surroundings, in the steam clouds revolving over the hill, in the weird colour of the water itself, and in the bleak low ranges of the outer view. Shoes and stockings were here taken off, Kate having while in the boat set us an example, and we proceeded without loss of time to the White Terraces. The sun shone upon the wonderful alabaster-like steps and upon the cascades pouring from them, and put a million diamonds into the small basins receiving the downfall. Always white and smooth, in waves and drifts and ripples as if there had been a mighty overflow of liquid |